Chapter 11 – Bellamy
BELLAMY
Hard truth? Some days I feel like I’m rocking the shit out of this gig, and other days I feel like that bust-breaking woman who has no clue what the fuck she’s doing.
This morning, I was the latter. Sabrina went MIA on me while I was putting Zayer down for his nap, and I had to search the palace for half an hour until I found her running back to the playroom, where she was supposed to be all along.
Girl told me she had gone for a snack. Not so sure I believe her.
But right now, I’m awesome at this job. I’m determined to be.
I’ve been here for a month. One solid month of nannying three children. I feel like I should have a better grasp on this job and these children than I do. To all the misogynistic hating-ass motherfuckers who don’t call parenting the hardest most full-time gig out there, go fuck yourselves.
It’s no joke. Some days I’m too exhausted to change out of my clothes.
Some days I just want to roll up into a ball and cry or drink a vat of wine.
Adulting is painfully, brutally impossible sometimes, and I don’t have anyone here I can go out with or blow off steam with or even commiserate with.
I’m in the palace twenty-four seven, always on, always working.
I’m trying to be perfect so their jerk of a father who openly hates me and ignores me in the same breath doesn’t fire me. All I want is to help make these children into upstanding, happy, one-day adults.
Today, my high is mixed.
“Jump,” I call up to Phaedra. “You can do it. I’ll catch you. I promise.”
“I can’t,” she cries, hunched over, shivering slightly, arms wrapped around her wet body.
“You can. You are Queen Phaedra. Show them all you’re fearless.”
“But I’m not,” she whimpers, staring down at me from the high diving board as I tread water in the deep end of the massive swimming pool behind the palace.
It’s supposedly the last warm day of the season, with a storm coming in tonight that’s bringing a cold front with it, and since the grounds crew is closing the pool in twenty minutes, we’re taking advantage now.
“Phaedra, no one is,” I tell her, running my hands back over my face and hair to push the excess water from my eyes so I can see her better.
“Everyone is afraid. But it is our ability to face that fear and overcome it and show it who’s boss that makes us or breaks us.
You can be afraid, but you can never let that fear win. ”
“What if I drown?”
“I swear to you, I will never let that happen.”
“But I’ll sink.”
“And then you will swim, and I will be here the entire time to help if you need me.” I hold my hands up in the air and twirl around once in the water.
“You promise?”
“I swear it.”
Her green eyes quiver, and she slams them shut and then leaps. Her body flails for a half-second before she straightens out, and another half-second later, she plummets into the water. My searching eyes snap to the clear blue water, locating her instantly.
I’m ready to dive down and help her if needed, but kickass girl that she is, she doesn’t need me.
She emerges, breaking the surface with a delighted squeal I have no doubt they can hear for miles. “I did it! I did it!” Her arms wrap around me like a monkey’s, and she hugs me against her.
“You did! That was awesome! I’m so proud of you!
” And I am. Kiddo has been having a rough time with school.
First of all, she’s the only kid at this “school”.
She has a teacher she doesn’t like, and today that teacher berated her a bit over a test Phaedra didn’t get a perfect score on.
Phaedra came home crying to me about it.
I was ready to get in the car with Javier and go find the bitch, but I managed to hold myself back.
Just barely.
So this feels like an extra big win for her.
“Fantastic!” Althea calls out, clapping her hands.
She’s been playing with Zayer and Sabrina on the edge of the grass by the pool since they got out before us.
Sabrina is jumping up and down—the girl doesn’t stop—and cheering for her sister.
I wave at them, giving them a thumbs-up behind Phaedra’s back.
“Thank you for helping me,” Phaedra says against me. “I love you.”
Oh shit. I totally start to choke up.
I squeeze her tighter. “I love you, too.” Maybe I’m not supposed to say that? There might be nanny rules that tell you not to fall in love with the kids you care for, or if you do, to keep that to yourself.
It’s impossible.
Being with these children has filled my heart in ways I never knew possible.
They give me purpose and have made me a better, stronger person.
Even on the days when it’s hard. Even on the days when I want to cry and drink and just not have to do so many things all at once for everyone other than myself.
I don’t feel so lost or alone when I’m here with them.
Whether it’s cooking or baking with them in the kitchen and watching a movie on Friday nights or simply playing games, I’ve never been happier in my life.
Their father is another matter, and the reasons I’m here should be more troubling to me than they are, but it’s tough not to feel like I’m part of something instead of on the outside of it as I’ve always been.
“All right, let’s get out of the pool so they can close it up. I’m getting cold.”
“Me too.”
We swim to the edge and rush for our towels. In the half an hour we’ve been in the water, the temperature has plummeted. Althea stands, holding Zayer’s and Sabrina’s hands. They’re already wrapped up in their towels and mostly dry.
“That was brilliant, Phaedra,” Althea exclaims, bending down to kiss the top of her wet head. “Wait till we tell your papa what you just did.”
That’s another thing that’s been special about being here. Althea. Obviously, she’s much older than I am, but between morning yoga and her helping me manage the kids—and the king for that matter—we’ve formed a fast friendship.
“Hot chocolate?” I ask, and Althea gives me a wry shake of her head. “What? I like sweets.”
“Oh. Is that the only reason you suggested that when you know certain people don’t love the children having so many sweets?”
No. Not fully. I mean, I do like sweets, and I know the children enjoy them.
But, yes, half the time I do things, I’m hoping to get a reaction from Sebastian.
Any reaction. Althea is clearly on to me because I’ve complained to her about how difficult it can be to work for him.
The king and I had what I thought was a moment when he took me into the library and told me it could be mine, but since then…
nothing. A solid month of hardly more than one-word responses, and always with a scowl or frown.
The man really does hate me.
If he weren’t so tender with his children and the king of a country, I’d strangle him out of frustration. I’m trying to hate him back, but it’s tough because it’s just not who I am.
“In this case, I agree,” she says. “Hot chocolate to celebrate Phaedra going off the high board, but only a small cup since supper is in an hour and a half.”
“Deal. Let’s go get dried off and changed and then have some celebratory hot chocolate.”
Just as we make it inside, the wind starts to kick up along with some rain, and by the time we finish our Friday-night treat of pumpkin-spiced madeleines and our movie—this week it’s Mary Poppins and no, I didn’t pick it out, it’s just a coincidence—the storm is really howling outside the palace walls.
Sebastian carries Zayer up to bed to tuck him in, and once that’s done, he does the same with the girls.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” I say, lingering in the hall because I know it annoys him.
A grunt. That’s it.
He doesn’t even yell at me anymore, which I’d gladly take over this…indifference.
It’s dangerous. I know it is. And I know myself enough to appreciate that part of me seeks his attention like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Because that’s likely what this is. A crush.
Which is seriously fucked up if you think about it because the man is not nice to me, and he blackmailed me with my father’s freedom to be here.
Other than the fact that he’s otherworldly gorgeous and softens like ice cream in the summer sun for his children, there isn’t much to like about him.
Yet I can’t seem to help it.
He hasn’t fired me, but I can tell most days he’s barely tolerating my presence here. I’m a pariah to him. More detestable by the day. It eats at me. I don’t necessarily need his praise, just something more than the nothing he gives me would suffice.
He’s still in his suit, even at this hour. Stiff and refined and so, so miserable. What I wouldn’t give to knock him out of his shell. To finally see the man he works so hard to hide. He has a living, beating heart in his chest, he just refuses to acknowledge it’s there.
Sort of like me.
“Good chat!” I call out as the door shuts behind him. I blow out an aggravated breath.
Maybe it’s easier this way. Maybe asking for more of him is asking for trouble.
His attention on me might not be something I’ll survive.
I already had the filthiest dreams after he put his hand up in my hair in the library, and that was hardly anything scandalous.
It was my hair, not my breast or my pussy, though that’s where my brain went every night for weeks.
I’ve touched myself to the king of Messalina more times than I can count.
Would he laugh if he knew that truth? Laugh at just how untouched I actually am?
Going into my room, I get ready for bed even though the hour is early and I’m not all that tired yet.
I could go to the library. I could wander around the palace and explore more of the rooms. Something I’ve done on random nights when sleep escaped me.
Instead, I lie in my bed, listening to the wind and the rain pelt the palace.
I text my father, telling him I miss him and that I’ll see him on Sunday.
He doesn’t reply, but I don’t expect him to.
My visit with him last Sunday was a good one, and I spent two hours more with him than I otherwise would have just so I could savor it.
He told me stories about when he met my mother and about what their relationship was like when they were dating.
He told me about when they discovered she was pregnant with me and how excited they were.
I stare at my phone, restless, agitated, a little worked up.
I’m not even sure what makes me do it, but I pull up the text stream with Sebastian, which is mostly one-sided texts from me to him.
Tonight, more than any other night and beyond explanation, that bothers me.
I get zero feedback from him about the job I’m doing.
I slither under my blankets, taking my phone with me, and…fuck it.
Me: Are you awake?
The three dots dance almost instantly and my heart leaps in my chest. I suppress a squeal, biting into my lip, far too excited that he’s responding to me.
Sebastian: Yes. What is it?
My squeal turns into a groan and my lip-biting turns into a roll of my eyes.
Me: Do you think I’m doing a bad job with the children? Is that why you won’t speak to me?
The dots go again only to disappear. This pattern repeats itself two more times, and then…
Sebastian: That’s not why I don’t speak to you.
Immediately, I pounce on that.
Me: So you admit I’m doing a good job? And that you intentionally don’t speak to me?
Sebastian: My time is already limited. What little I have, I spend with my children.
He doesn’t answer my question about me doing a good job and I decide not to press it.
Me: That’s a lame excuse and one we both know isn’t true.
Sebastian: What are you looking for me to say?
It’s a valid question. One I don’t quite know the answer to. Suddenly I feel a bit foolish, seeking his praise and attention like a child. He’s a lot older than me and I have a girlish crush I need to get rid of. He’s right for treating me this way. I’m the one being unprofessional.
Me: Nothing. Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.
Sebastian: Just between us, just right now, I avoid you because I have to. Because if I gave you my attention, I’d only want to give you more of it.
I read his words over and over again. I both love and hate the way they make me feel. I opened this up, and now…
Me: I think I want your attention for the same reason.
Sebastian: That’s not helping me right now.
Me: Me neither. But I swear, I’m not trying to sext you.
Sebastian: Bellamy!
I can’t fight my giggle. He’s so easily riled up by me, but I rein myself in, needing to fix what I’ve started.
Me: Do you want me to keep my distance? I will. I already promised I wouldn’t flirt, and I’ve tried to hold to that. I’m just new at this position and I want to do a good job with it so badly and you’re you and I… I’m going to shut up now.
Sebastian: What do you mean by I’m me?
I sit up in my bed, drawing my knees up to my chest, smiling so ridiculously my cheeks hurt.
Me: I just told you I’m not going to flirt or sext with you.
Sebastian: You opened the door with that.
My eyes bulge out of my head, my pulse climbing as my empty core clenches. I work my lip between my teeth.
Me: I might have. Do you honestly want me to tell you what it means and what I’m thinking? I’m not sure what it’ll do to our boss-employee dynamic if I admit it to you.
Sebastian: On second thought then, no. I think I’ll like the answer far more than I should.
Sebastian: Go to sleep now. No more texting me like this.
Me: Yes, Your Majesty. Good night.
I set my phone on my nightstand and stare at the ceiling. My smile is uncontainable. The flutter in my chest, too. He also feels this. How the hell am I going to be able to sleep now? Impossible with him right down the hall from me when I know he wants me just as much as I want him.